


Out of Order

by Pinnithin



Category: HLVRAI-Fandom, Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware
Genre: First Time, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Trans Gordon Freeman, almost body worship?, almost praise kink?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:07:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27056923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinnithin/pseuds/Pinnithin
Summary: They spent the night together often. The terrors came and went. They talked. They slept. They tangled up in one another until the nightmares were gone. Tommy kissed him goodbye when he had to leave. And he imagined. God, he imagined.
Relationships: Tommy Coolatta/Gordon Freeman
Comments: 14
Kudos: 141





	Out of Order

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. I don't write smut, but I am driven by spite so I took the shot.
> 
> If you're a minor, please leave, I didn't write this for you.
> 
> Don't send this to the crew or I'll kill you in real life. Don't be weird. Come on.
> 
> Since I have a lot of eyes on me from my other works, I guess this needs to be said: I write for myself. I write to 1) convey an emotion and 2) to get better at writing through experimentation in the low stakes environment that fanfiction provides. I decided this was good so I put my name on it. Don't read it if it makes you uncomfortable.
> 
> Otherwise, thank you and enjoy.

Tommy had been imagining things a lot lately.

They didn’t move in together after the Cascade. It was too soon for that - after all, they had only known each other for a few days, even if they did come out of that week’s events with a special… something between them. Dating seemed like a horribly inadequate word for what they were. What that nightmare they lived through together had molded them into.

They did move into the same apartment complex, however. Neighbors, sort of. Tommy’s place was across the courtyard and down one floor from Gordon’s, and they could see one another across the stretch of xeriscaping when they stepped onto their respective balconies. Tommy liked to wave whenever he noticed the other man standing there. Gordon liked to wave back.

Gordon invited Tommy over a lot. Just to sit and watch TV on the couch and share the pizza he ordered. Just to walk Sunkist around the neighborhood, aimless and wandering. Just to play cards and talk about what happened. What didn’t happen. What might’ve happened, if it all hadn’t happened.

They spent the night together often. The terrors came and went. They talked. They slept. They tangled up in one another until the nightmares were gone. Tommy kissed him goodbye when he had to leave. And he imagined. God, he imagined. 

This was something he never had time to dwell on when they were being shot at. Things he noticed in passing that pinged his interest but were buried out of necessity. Now, he had plenty of time - too much time - to turn over his thoughts in his head that he didn’t feel like he was allowed to have. The curve of Gordon’s throat when he leaned his head back to laugh. The steady track of his fingerpads on his skin at night. What his breath sounded like in his ear, what it would take to make that breathing quicken. These were private thoughts Tommy had, thoughts he kept to himself and examined late at night when he was locked alone in his apartment. 

It didn’t… wholly cross his mind that Gordon would be imagining things, too, until he caught Tommy in the doorway of his bedroom one soft, rainy evening. Eyes half lidded and a couple glasses of wine in him. Beautifully tousled, hair tumbling around his shoulders. “You staying the night?” he asked. He leaned against the door frame, head tipped to the side.

“I - do you need me to?” Tommy asked, fingers hooked overhead on the doorjamb.

He’d mostly slept over when Tommy didn’t have work in the morning and Gordon was feeling a rough night coming on, but he seemed relaxed right now. Shoulders curving in a gentle stance under a soft purple t-shirt. There was a precarious smile on his face. “I don’t - you don’t have to,” he clarified. “But I’d like you to.”

Tommy would like to, too. He’d like to do a lot of things. His eyes tracked generously over the man’s face, down to his mouth, his neck, his collarbones. He wanted to. God, he wanted to.

He nodded while the rain pattered outside. He didn’t exactly feel like walking across the courtyard in that weather, anyway, and Gordon was looking at him in a way that made his heart begin to gallop. 

He leaned in to kiss him, as he had done so often over the past few weeks, and Gordon met him as he always did, mouth warm and gentle, and Tommy knew he would never get tired of it. He could kiss Gordon hundreds of thousands of times in this very doorway and it would still make his pulse race. Tommy brought his hands down from the door frame and slid them around Gordon’s waist. This was good, this was familiar. The weight of Gordon’s arms snaking around his neck was something he’d felt dozens of times before. Reassuring, comfortable, a weight he could support with ease, because Tommy knew Gordon would never put anything on his shoulders that he couldn’t bear.

God, he was wonderful. He was perfect. And, somehow, miraculously, he was his. 

Tommy was content to bask in this feeling until they went to bed together in a warm bundle of limbs and sheets, keeping his wandering thoughts under lock and key until he was safely back home to think them over alone, but suddenly Gordon’s tongue was in his mouth and his hips were pressing into his pelvis and he realized tonight was different. 

He couldn’t help but gasp, softly against his own will, into the kiss. Tommy was a man who was used to wanting. He had lived most of his life wanting. Reaching and stretching and yearning for what he could never hope to have, and Gordon was a rare thing that he had been allowed to keep, despite everything. Despite the fact that it was… well, him. Gordon had chosen him, time and time again, in the worst hell imaginable. Tommy didn’t entirely feel like he deserved the man’s hipbones grinding so insistently against his own, but he couldn’t deny how good it felt.

Gordon pulled back to speak, keeping close, face so near it was out of focus and his breath hot and clipped against Tommy’s mouth as he asked, “Do you want this?”

Tommy answered immediately and without hesitation. ”Yes.” It wasn’t even a question for him. “Yes. Gordon, I-“

“Oh, thank god,” he interrupted, and his mouth returned hot and insistent on Tommy’s and he was pulling him to his bed.

Tommy went cotton-headed all at once, pulse quickening as he let himself be dragged by the shirt collar across the room. He wanted Gordon in every way imaginable, and their sudden stumble past the line from wanting to having made heat flood his entire body. Gordon fell back against the mattress and pulled Tommy down on top of him, teeth knocking, clumsy, as they went. He tasted like chardonnay and his breathing was already ragged as he kissed him.

God. God. Tommy wanted to be so good to him. 

He fitted himself on top of the other man in a way that was just diagonal from what they were used to, a knee between his legs and nudging them gently apart. They knew one another’s bodies well by now after countless nights of staving off the darkness in each other’s arms, but this was deliberate and insistent in a way they’d never been together. Gordon’s hands fumbled with Tommy’s collar, uncoordinated, clumsy, and he realized the guy’s fingers were shaking. Trying and failing at the simplest task of undoing a single button. It was endearing in a way Tommy hadn’t expected. Gordon was… nervous? Guess that made two of them.

He sat back and did the work for him, deftly unbuttoning in a vertical line and tossing the garment aside. Tommy was wearing a white v-neck underneath, and Gordon snorted when he saw it.

“You wear too many clothes,” he huffed, and Tommy laughed. 

This was good. This was right. This was Gordon. The man he’d been dragged through hell with, the man who’d held his hand when he had a breakdown after the Cascade was over. He knew him and he trusted him and he laughed with him and he loved him. He took off the undershirt too, elbowing it over his head and discarding it. It was dark and soft in this room, and he was safe.

Gordon’s face did an interesting thing at that, eyes flicking open wide as he let out a quiet little puff of air. The light was off in the room, but he could see the man’s face in the street light filtering through the drizzled window. He looked enraptured.

“What?” Tommy asked, unable to stop himself from smiling. It wasn’t like Gordon hadn’t ever seen him shirtless before. 

Gordon hummed, reaching to pull him in with a hand on the back of his neck. “You’re gorgeous,” he said, murmuring against his throat as Tommy leaned into him. “I’ve always wanted to say that. You’re so fucking beautiful, I - like, I never wanna stop looking at you, Tommy.” His hands roamed and his mouth was soft and warm against Tommy’s neck, and it did something to him, knocking the breath out of him in a sudden rush, heat gathering in his stomach. 

He rocked his hips into Gordon’s just to have a place to go with that feeling, and Gordon whined into the crook of Tommy’s shoulder in response. The sound he made was lovely, so Tommy did it again.

Fingers dug into his back in response, blunted nails catching on his skin but not long enough to scratch. Tommy exhaled heavily at the sensation. Perfect, perfect, Gordon was perfect. Tommy wanted to spend all night eliciting new reactions from the man, especially now that he had complimented Tommy so nicely. He braced himself with one hand and began exploring with the other, keeping himself cheek to cheek with Gordon so he could hear every word uttered out of his lovely mouth. His free hand wandered up under Gordon’s shirt, fiddling around the hem before tracking up the expanse of his stomach, his chest, pulling his shirt up as he went. Gordon sighed and his eyes fluttered shut. He was practically purring into Tommy’s ear.

“Y - You should probably take off your glasses,” Tommy suggested at length.

“I need them to see,” Gordon responded, and that made Tommy giggle. “I want to see you,” he went on, and that made Tommy prickle with heat.

Tommy tugged at the garment. He needed this shirt off yesterday. Gordon raised his arms obediently and allowed Tommy to pull it free. As soon as he tossed it to the side with his own button-down, his hands returned to Gordon’s skin, unable to stop himself from grasping at his pectoral, his stomach, the cute little pad of fat that rest at his waist. Gordon sucked in a shuddering breath under Tommy’s touch, keeping his arms above his head to grip the headboard. He was so pretty like this, face flushed in the dim light, knuckles standing out from the grasp he was maintaining, arching his back ever so slightly. Tommy idly traced an index finger down Gordon’s happy trail while he watched his facial expression shift. What a marvel, lips parting, breath leaving him all in a rush. Tommy was in awe that he was allowed to see him like this - that he was allowed to do this to him. This call-and-response of touching and sighing. 

“T-Tommy.” Gordon whispered. His name sounded so good in his mouth. “Tommy.”

“Gordon,” Tommy responded in a daze as his fingers hooked into Gordon’s waistband. Focus on this, he told himself. Focus on the action, the doing of things, the unsteady rise and fall of Gordon’s chest and the feeling of his thighs pressing against his knees where he sat, restrained yet insistent. Tommy wasn’t a particularly sexual person - that is, his past experiences lacked a certain something that always left him somewhat unfulfilled - but the thrill in his stomach as Gordon began kicking his boxers off was definitely making it difficult to think. He adjusted so he could slide them down his legs and onto the floor. Tommy felt drunk, even though he wasn’t. A man in a trance, even though he wasn’t.

What had he done to deserve this, to see Gordon in such a state, practically panting as he lay before Tommy, spread for him like an angel? His hair fanned the pillow and he was rosy all over and he was beautiful. Tommy placed a hand on the wide expanse of Gordon’s thigh to steady himself, feeling the muscles there go taut beneath his touch, and - yeah, okay, that did something to him, too. His fingertips trembled as he just sat there between Gordon’s legs, taking in the view. 

Gordon was lit by a band of light from the dappled window as rain continued to fall outside. He was staring at Tommy out of wide, dark eyes, watching him watch him. He was freckled like a starfield, dusted with coarse dark hair in the most wonderful places, trailing into a soft curly line between his legs. Tommy’s eyes passed over the nicks and scars from Black Mesa and years prior. Survivor. Bulwark against the cruel sea of the world. How could someone withstand so much and still be so soft? He was so achingly human, so startlingly lovely, Tommy forgot to breathe. 

“You good?” Gordon prompted, in a voice that was so familiar in his concern it knocked him immediately back into the moment. 

Tommy’s brain stalled as he reconnected his thoughts to his mouth. “I… yeah,” he said, swallowing. “I was just…” 

“Wasn’t what you were expecting, huh?”

Tommy laughed short and silent through his nose. “No, it’s not _that_ \- I - I - I’m just - you’re - I-“ he had to look away, covering his mouth with his fingertips as he regathered himself. Any words he would use to describe Gordon, to tell the man how he felt just looking at him like that, were far out of reach, buried in his spine, his blood, his marrow. This wasn’t something he could articulate in a way that made sense, and if he did, he felt like the sentiment would be diluted. Like translating a language that wasn’t invented yet. 

His periphery caught Gordon’s hands dropping softly from the headboard as he continued to watch Tommy carefully. Delicately, he removed his glasses, folded the frames, and set them aside. Patient, like he always was. And he felt his throat go tight at the thought of it, that Gordon would wait for him, even in this, even when he could feel how quick and insistent his pulse was running through his thigh. 

Tommy wanted this so badly. He wanted to love Gordon in every way he could, in every way the man deserved. It was funny. The decision to stay with him in Black Mesa while he bled out onto the floor was a choice he’d made so easily. The fact that something like this, something so impossibly marvelous, carried such a weighted pause with it was ironic in a way that was almost sad. It was like they skipped a step. Loved each other out of order.

Gordon’s fingers encircled Tommy’s wrist, where his hand still rest against his thigh. Gentle. A question. Tommy met his eyes and saw that Gordon was staring at him like his heart would stop if he looked away. His thumb pressed warm and careful on his wrist, and Tommy guessed he was checking his pulse. Beating out a steady marathon, just like Gordon’s was. He was so scared of screwing this up.

“Tommy,” Gordon began quietly. “I’m… Don’t feel like you have to do this, okay? ‘Cause I’ll wait as long as it takes. I’m like - I only want this if you want this, and I - like - like, even if it never happens,” he rambled on, tracing his thumb so softly over the sensitive inside of Tommy’s wrist. “I’m just happy to have you. Man, I’m just happy to be with you. We can like, tap out and watch a movie or something if you want.”

Tommy exhaled softly. “Gordon…”

He just wanted him. Gordon just wanted him, in any way he could have him. In any way Tommy was able to give, and it didn’t matter what it was like or how long it took to happen or what a fucking tragedy the premise of it was because in the end, it just came down to the two of them, right? Loving each other while the world was ending. Learning to love a little better now that it wasn’t. Gordon’s face was open and sincere, colored with a lovely blush in his cheeks, and he was the most beautiful thing Tommy had ever seen. 

He leaned and pressed a kiss to his hipbone, slow and tender. “I want to,” he murmured against his skin. “I want to.”

Gordon’s hand fell aside and he sighed, though whether it was from relief at his answer or from having Tommy’s mouth on him again, he wasn’t sure. He kissed him again and again, taking his time, following that little crease where his thigh met his pelvis. He stretched himself out and got comfortable, positioning himself on his stomach between the man’s legs. Gordon had worked back up to a quiet pant, eyes barely open as he watched him, face flushed and expectant. Tommy found it endearing how breathless he already was, considering he’d barely done anything yet. Cute. Cute and perfect and waiting for him, his slit wet and pretty in front of his face. 

Gordon made a sound that was almost a whine, straining his legs and lifting his hips in Tommy’s direction. “Please,” he murmured, and that word alone made Tommy want to never leave this spot again.

From the second Tommy pressed his mouth against Gordon’s folds, the man was trembling. He was so soft and so slick and his thighs were shaking on either side of his head where he held them. He slid his tongue in and Gordon moaned outright. Tommy was dizzy, drunk, hot all over as the reality of what he was doing hit him like a truck. Gordon Freeman, sun embodied, had Tommy’s head between his legs, and he was positively unraveling because of it. He pressed in deeper, inhaling heavily through his nose, eyelids falling shut. He was so blissfully sweet.

“God - fuck, that feels so good,” Gordon panted in a thin, desperate voice. “So good, you’re so good, T-Tommy,” Gordon’s hand found his hair, fisting gently in his locks and giving a little tug. “Tommy, _please_.”

He groaned into him, eating Gordon out like it was a holy thing. And to him, it was. To him, it was. An act of devotion, laid out before him like a disciple, unable to think about anything except the shuddering press of strong thighs against his head and warm fingers on his scalp holding him in place and how fucking good it felt to hear his name uttered so lovingly from Gordon’s lips. Divine. Chosen. If he died here, drowning in him, Tommy figured that’d be just fine.

Gordon was spilling praise and pleas and nonsense out of his mouth and it positively burned in Tommy’s ears. He raised his eyes to see that Gordon was still staring at him, delirious in his admiration. Holding his gaze, radiant as the sun, was almost too much for Tommy to bear, and he had to draw back and pause for a moment, refill his lungs, restart his heart. Gordon idly combed Tommy’s hair with his fingers, as if he could straighten the mess he’d made from pulling on it, and the notion made Tommy laugh softly. Gordon chuckled, too, moving his hand to cup the side of his face and brush his thumb over his lips, still wet and half parted as he caught his breath. 

“You look good like this,” Gordon murmured. Tommy thought he might catch on fire. 

He angled his chin onto his hand and kissed his palm. It was the only thing keeping him from completely blacking out as heat raced down his spine, gathering and burning in the hollow of his hips. He shifted where he lay, and the friction drew out a pathetic whimper that surprised both of them.

Gordon’s eyebrows shot up when he saw the issue. “Oh my god, Tommy, do you still - you need to take those off, dude,” he said. “Why didn’t you...” he trailed off, propping himself up on his elbows to watch the other man as he slid to the edge of the bed to take care of his pants. 

“Sorry, I was a li - a little preoccupied,” Tommy explained as he undid his belt, and that made Gordon laugh.

He undressed with a good deal of fumbling. Now _he_ was the one whose motor skills were shot, absolutely destroyed by the blood roaring through his body and his own racing thoughts. All the while Gordon watched him, disheveled and soft around the edges, golden in the light from the window. Rain hissed in the silence. Once Tommy’s pants were on the floor - he let out a soft little sigh of relief as they fell - the man’s eyes went huge.

“Get back over here,” Gordon blurted.

Tommy laughed out loud and obliged him.

He climbed onto the mattress, aching with how much he wanted this, every fiber in his being begging to sink into Gordon and burn straight to ash. His dick was so hard he was dizzy, and dragging it against Gordon’s inner thigh, soaked and slick, almost made him go fucking crosseyed. Gordon pulled him down to kiss him again, mouth shaking beneath him, uncoordinated and insistent and so, so warm. Tommy tried to kiss him back, but it was wet and sloppy and fumbling because he wasn’t even sure where he was, what his body was doing, his mind zeroed in on the press of his head against Gordon’s opening. He felt a hand encircle his shaft and Tommy moaned so loud it was nearly embarrassing. 

But it wasn’t - it couldn’t be, not when it was _Gordon_ touching him, holding him, kissing him like he was the only person he would ever kiss, ever again. Tommy was in Eden, without sin, blissful and unashamed. Gordon guided him and lined their hips up, bracing Tommy with one hand on his shoulder and the other on his cock. He broke the kiss because he was gasping now from the mere proximity, from having Tommy here becoming unwound on top of him. They had to take a moment to just lie there and breathe each other in.

It was all they were capable of, here on the precipice of one another.

“G - Gordon,” Tommy managed to choke out. “C-c-can I--?“

A tiny, breathless “yes,” shivered into his ear.

He sank into him.

Tommy was going to become unmade. He had no idea something could feel this good, spiraling into him from his skin to his blood to his atoms to whatever star stuff threaded his DNA together, wholly consumed and scattered like ashes. It was all he could do to press into him slowly, arms shivering violently where he’d braced himself, useless in this moment because he was asking mere muscle and bone to withstand a supernova. He dropped his head to Gordon’s shoulder, gasping out a breath that was maybe a swear, maybe a sob. 

For Gordon, it was definitely a swear, breath hot on his neck as he rasped, barely audible, “Fuck, _Tommy..._ ”

And how could Tommy ever be anywhere else after this, knowing that the voice in his ear was unrivaled adoration, and it was just for him, only for him, cosmic and all consuming in its humanity?

He loved him. He would love him til his heart stopped.

It was slow going, at first. Adjusting to one another took a bit of trial and error. Gordon shifted beneath him, drawing his knees in and sussing out pleas against Tommy’s throat. _Move, please, god, please,_ and Tommy obeyed and Tommy saw stars and Tommy dissolved into him. He rolled his hips slow and gentle, forehead buried into Gordon’s shoulder because it was all he could take in the beginning, engulfed like a shipwreck at sea.

Gordon recovered quicker than Tommy did, gripping him by the waist and angling his hips into him in an embrace, begging so prettily for him to move faster, to fuck him harder, voice edged and rough and barely coherent. His skin was hot and close and lovely as his nails moved to dig half moons into Tommy’s back; perfect, perfect, perfect. This was holy. He was holy. Tommy finally gathered himself enough to offer him what he deserved. 

He rocked into him, hard, and the mess of obscenities he was rewarded with made his spine flare with heat. Tommy had to raise his head and look at him like this, had to watch his face as he drove his cock deep inside him, again and again. Gordon was resplendent and gorgeous, his lips wet and parted and his skin flushed with color and his eyes so dark and deep and - fuck, they were locked on him, completely captivated by the sight of Tommy losing his grip on his own soul above him. Gordon took all of him, all Tommy could possibly give, radiant and blazing like the sun itself. 

Tommy quivered and shook as he was thoroughly wrecked by him. He was Gordon’s, now. Probably had been a long time ago.

“Fuck, please, god, please don’t stop,” Gordon sighed, one hand gripped hard on the back of Tommy’s neck, eyes wide and desperate and stunning. “Please, Tommy, please - I - I’m c-c-c--”

Oh, he was a sunbeam, hot and bright, burning his sentence to dust.

Gordon fell apart quietly around him, tensing up and baring his throat as his head tipped back with an exhale. The breath stuttered out of him as if on a silencer, soundless and heavy, and Tommy felt it move like thunder through his chest as he kept his awestruck gaze on him. Gordon’s eyes were rolled back, long lashes fluttering shut, mouth open and silent as he made the most lovely face he’d ever seen. Stars burst in Tommy’s vision as he felt his walls clench around him. 

He rocked into him softly, drawing it out just long enough for him to finish, too, much less gracefully than Gordon and with far more whimpering, messy and hot as his vision blurred with tears. Gordon held Tommy against him as he came, chin in the crook of his neck, babbling out something that was almost recognizable - a language of curses and compliments and beautiful, nonsensical Gordon-isms. Silly and perfect. 

Tommy was so undone he forgot where they were. What his own fucking name was. Thankfully, Gordon was able to remind him.

“Tommy,” he murmured, eyes still closed as his chest heaved, gentle and sweet like sunlight. 

“Gordon,” he gasped out in response. 

And that was it; that was all there was.

This was the only place he needed to be, ever again, until time stopped. Tommy’s limbs trembled in the aftermath, exhaustion rolling over him as he pulled out. He was still cheek to cheek with Gordon, blinking the tears that had so rapidly came and went from his eyes, encircled in his broad, strong arms as they breathed heavily into one another.

Tommy felt Gordon’s chest shake as he laughed under him. “Fuck, man,” he whispered, soft and shaky with emotion as the rain continued to fall outside. “That - that was good. You’re so fucking good to me, Tommy. What did I do to deserve you?”

The tears _almost_ came back at that, and Tommy tilted his head to press a kiss to Gordon’s ear before drawing back to look at him. Gordon’s eyelids were heavy and tired, eyes full and black like pools of ink, so deep he could drown in them as he held Tommy’s gaze. He smiled down at him, soft like the summer rain. He was warm, here in this close dark bedroom with him. He was warm and he was safe.

He kissed him, slow and sweet. _Nothing_ , he wanted to say. You didn’t do anything to deserve this, because deserving wasn’t what this was about. But in the wake of it all, the tide of emotion still lapping around him and making it hard for him to think, Tommy could only articulate one thing, the only thing that mattered.

“I love you,” he said, and Gordon smiled his sunshine smile.

“I love you, too.”


End file.
